All is Well
by tanyart
Summary: Darim in the aftermath. Spoilers for Revelations.


**AN:** Written for the AC meme. Spoilers for AC:R, post-Altair Memory 3.

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><p>They flee to Alamut.<p>

The journey there had not been quiet or withdrawn, but strangely methodical and almost determinedly sedulous. Once Masyaf disappears behind them over the horizon, they start to talk over the rush of wind as they ride away.

They talk of buying supplies and hunting for the food they cannot afford, of refilling their water pouches at the stream some miles ahead, and they decide their next course of action together—like crossing the mountain pass to cover their trail, taking the river where they cannot be followed and so forth. If Darim is careless with his thoughts, he finds himself thinking that this is only another long trip with his father, only without his brother. As if he is leaving Masyaf to Mongolia again, only without his mother.

Then, very quickly, Darim stops thinking to focus on more important matters, watching for any signs of weariness that his father is too stubborn, too angry to admit to. And his father must be furious, Darim knows, if not at Abbas then at himself.

It has been three days since they left Masyaf, and on this third night Darim unpacks their bedrolls from the tired horses and lays them near the small campfire. His father tends to the flames, fanning them with a gentle hand to clear the smoke.

"Father," Darim begins, kneeling down on the dirt. They need to talk.

"We need to abandon the horses tomorrow and continue on foot," Altair says instead, handing Darim a strip of dried meat and a small bowl of hot water.

"Yes," Darim replies. They have been over this before. He takes the jerky but gives back the bowl of water after a sip. His father's hands are cold; the bowl will warm them up. He breathes in, very slowly. "But about mother. And Sef."

Altair glances at Darim and repeats, just as he did when they had fought through Masyaf; "I'm sorry."

Darim knows that his father is sincere, painfully so, but he still does not know what, exactly, had transpired — if his father is directly at fault for his mother's death, or if he is needlessly blaming himself. Darim wants to understand, so when he asks, Altair tells him in such a way that is clear and brief, but leaves no room for questions or musings. What's done is done. It worries Darim at first that Altair speaks as if reciting a piece of old history, far removed from it all, but then there is a brief moment when Altair closes his mouth, lips drawn tight at the edges. His shoulders slump and his hand passes over his eyes once before he straightens again.

Darim does not say anything for the longest time. He looks away.

"Go to sleep, baba," he eventually says, quiet and gentle. "I will take first watch."

But he does not wake his father until morning.

-0-

In Alamut, Sef's wife greets them with open arms. She rests her hand against Darim's cheek and brushes her lips over Altair's forehead. They are to stay for however long they wish.

Meanwhile, Sef's children hide behind their mother's dress, and though Darim knows it pains his father to kneel before anyone, Altair does so easily in front of his granddaughters.

Darim remains standing, a steady hand on his father's arm to help him back up.

-0-

His father disappears.

Darim is used to it. He is used to his father being alone and secluded in a dim lit room, a place where his body stays but his mind is elsewhere. Darim remembers his mother and uncle always knocking, always steering his father back home to rest, where he will also disappear for a time in restless dreams. And then he will wake up, and disappear with the Apple, again and again.

Mother and uncle are not here anymore. Darim watches his father, stays up late while his father's body sits motionless at the table, hand clutching the golden sphere. Sef's daughters avoid Altair, frightened by their grandfather's stillness, and Sef's wife only comes in to make sure Darim has something warm to eat. It is Darim who makes sure his father eats at all.

When Darim needs to leave his father's side, he frets every single moment he is away, but he cannot leave Sef's wife to tend to the chores by herself, and his body is restless besides. He runs the rooftops until he chokes on air, returns to Sef's home to check on his father, eats, and does what little work he can do in hiding. The days go on like this, repeating into a mindless blur.

"Darim," Sef's wife says, pulling him aside as he was about to sit next to his expressionless father. "Darim, I will look over our father. You should rest."

Darim frowns, confused. It is only midday. "I have slept last night. I am not tired."

She looks at him, up and down, and he realizes that she is worried. "But you are not rested."

"I am fine."

Sef's wife takes a step back, not from his unintentional curt tone, but from disbelief. "After what has happened, you are fine? Darim, you are not. If you can only look at yourself…"

Sef's girls rush through the tiny hallway, playing a kind of game. How they can smile so soon is lost on Darim – though later he remembers that for them it has been months since their father's death. He moves aside, but both his nieces slow their steps and give him a quick glance. Darim can see a part of him reflect in their eyes –a tired, unsmiling and ragged man.

They turn away quickly, running around their mother's legs.

Sef's wife is distracted, so Darim takes the opportunity to escape inside his father's temporary room, heart beating painfully. He closes the door with a little more force than necessary, and is surprised when his father lifts his head form the table.

"Darim," Altair greets, letting go of the Apple. He flexes his stiff fingers and stands from his chair.

Darim hurries over, using the moment to collect his scattered thoughts, and attempts to help his father up. Altair impatiently waves him off; he stands steady and idly stretches his arms.

"How are you feeling, father?" Darim asks, watching. Always watching and feeling his stomach twist.

"I am doing better. Hungry," Altair admits, tired, and offers his son a small, sad smile. "But I suppose that can wait." He sits back down, looking at the Apple.

Suddenly, Darim cannot explain the frustration that he feels when he sees his father working and appearing as if nothing had happened, even for one moment. It sickens him, every time his father uses the Apple and Darim cannot do anything but sit and wait in growing unease and fear. Most of all, he hates knowing that if anyone was in need of a reprieve, it is his father. And Darim –

Darim cannot ask for anymore. He should not.

"Darim? Darim, come here."

The authority in Altair's voice, not at all like a father, is more like a grandmaster addressing a subordinate. Jolted from his silence, Darim steps dutifully forward, hands at his side.

Altair regards him, frowning. "Tell me."

Darim stares at him, uncomprehending.

"I lost my wife, my son, and my best friend. And I'm well aware of that. But what did _you_ lose, Darim? Can you tell me?"

Same as you, father, he wants to say, reaching out to lay his hand on his father's shoulder. But to his surprise, the words bottle up in his throat and his arm hangs suspended in the air as Altair waits for an answer. Darim's chest grows tight and he suddenly cannot speak. His hand lowers, fingers catching on the sleeve of his father's robe, a childish gesture, but Darim's vision blurs the pitiful image away and he lowers his head.

"My mother." His voice cracks. "My brother and my uncle."

He is stiff and almost unyielding when Altair stands to wrap his arms around him. The embrace is one-sided, but Darim turns to his father's ear, brow furrowing as he tries to keep from shaking.

"But I do not want to lose my father as well. I will not forgive you if it happens."

Altair becomes rigid, unnaturally still and quiet. And that, for some perverse reason, gives Darim enough courage to finally hug his father, giving into the little shakes and fears and the heartbreak of losing so much.

He thinks he can feel his father nod.

For now, because he is asking just this once, Darim will believe it.


End file.
